Trigger Happy
by theinsane
Summary: He didn’t accept it. [The fact that if he took one wrong step he could become an ottsel.] He did accept it. [And Jak stayed alive.]
1. Poison

Summary: He didn't accept it. The fact that if he took **one** wrong step _he_ could become an ottsel. He did accept it. And Jak stayed alive. Sequel to "Black Truth."

For Rin-neechan, and satan'stoasterstrudel, who reviewed for Black Truth.

AN: The definition I made up

I don't own Jak and Daxter

---------------------------------------------------

_Trigger Happy — A tendency to make spilt-second decisions, or to find joy in shooting/hitting people or objects._

On his ninth birthday, Jak fell into a wumpbee nest. It was a split second decision, something that the villagers called 'flying off the handle', not because he had a short temper, but because there was nothing else to describe it with. His logic for doing it was so childishly simple it was complicated:

Wumpbee honey is supposed to be delicious, so maybe if he got some for that other boy, he would be his friend. Personally, he was tired of playing with that squealing thing they called a 'female', and besides, he was the village prankster, and Jak always liked pranks.

So, when he got the honey, the wumpbees chased him into the ocean, where he stayed for three hours, and caught a cold. After he recovered, Jak gave the boy, whose name he found was Daxter, the honey. They were friends ever since.

Another impulsive choice, he remembered, was going to Misty Island, and even worse, going **closer **to get a better look. It—No, **he **turned Daxter into that-that **thing**!

Needless to say, it didn't turn out so well as the wumpbee incident.

So, when Daxter fell into the Dark Eco, Jak was scared.

Not right away, mind you, he knew he would get Daxter back to normal. But when heard they needed the Dark Sages, Gol and Maia…

"_Remember Jak…"_

'_It was a beautiful day,' Jak summarized. 'Too beautiful to be spent inside **pretending** to listen to Old Man Samos's lecture.' He should be outside, playing with Dax—_

_"Jak! Are you even listening to me?!" Samos yelled, in his face. He nodded, absentmindedly wiping the spit off his face. 'It doesn't even matter,' he thought absentmindedly, motioning Samos to go on. 'He can't prove I wasn't. We both know I don't talk, even if I **want** to.' _

_"Anyways," Samos said, rapping him on his knuckles with his walking stick, for almost dozing off again. "Dark Eco has a…habit to kill people, or turn them into…something else. There is a theory, of course, that lurkers were once elfish, but dark eco changed them into said monsters. The experts of Dark Eco are the sages, Gol A., and his little sister Maia…"_

_Jak sighed 'the sages again, eh. They are **so** bor—' He widened his eyes as he continued to listen to the lesson._

"_Since there are no willing test subjects for Dark Eco, I believe they might have been testing upon themselves. I fear their thirst for knowledge, and maybe their slight_ _tendency to be a…little insane because of it may be their undoing," There he paused, noticing he was rambling. _

"_In conclusion, Dark Eco will eventually kill you, whether it be instantaneous, or slow acting. A poison, of sorts." _

It wasn't the fact that they probably wouldn't helped them that bothered him…

"_Their slight_ _tendency to be a…little insane"_

"_Tendency to be a…little insane"_

_"Insane."_

What if they killed Daxter!? Even worse, what if they suddenly decided they didn't like him, and decided to turn him into-into whatever Daxter was?! Jak liked his looks (on the border of being narcissist, he must admit), and he wouldn't give them up for anything! He didn't care if they horribly tortured him, or killed him; _just don't take them, please! _

Then, however, Jak stopped hyperventilating and thought 'what can cure Dark Eco?' Nothing, if he remembered anything from his lessons, but then again…

"_In conclusion, Dark Eco will eventually kill you, whether it be instantaneous, or slow acting. A poison, of sorts." _

A poison… Maybe, maybe he could ask Samos for a herb that could cure-all…

Darn it! 'Nothing can cure the effects of Dark Eco' means 'Nothing can cure the effects of Dark Eco'!

But maybe…

_"Hey, Keira," an annoying (to her) boy with reddish hair asked. _

_"What! I told you two a story, so go to sleep!" She snapped, irritable._

_"Why didn't the prince die from the poison? Well, besides the fact that there would be no story if he did." He continued, oblivious to the once seething, now awestruck (Daxter asked an intelligent question! Holy—) girl._

_"Well," she started, obviously preparing herself for the speech. Jak just snuggled down further into the blankets, getting ready for the sure-fire lecture._

_"Me, being a mature, smart female who had heard this story, asked the very same question to Daddy." Here she smiled, closed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips, clearly proud of her parent._

_"**He **said that royalty is fed different poisons in small, tiny amounts when they are young, in order, to become immune to the poison. So, I concluded that the prince had the very same treatment." She then opened her eyes to find Daxter asleep, and Jak dozing off._

_"Boys!" she growled, before stomping out of the room._

'Royalty is fed different poisons in small, tiny amounts when they are young, in order, to become immune to the poison.'

Hmm… could he, no he couldn't. He probably was too old.

'Become immune to the poison'

'Which in this case is Dark Eco, but I'm old—

'Immune to the poison'

—But not as old as Samos.

---------------------------------------------Time Skip------------------------

Three days later, getting ready for his first adventure by day, contemplating his decision by night, Jak had decided. It was the first time in his life that he really, truly, honestly, thought about a choice.

So with a bloody knife on the ground, Jak poured Dark Eco into his wrist wound.

---------------------------------------------------------

_Jak had a dream that night._

_He dreamt about a boy who was stolen from his father, and had seen something nobody should **think** about, let alone experience._

_He dreamed about a boy whose adopted grandfather used and betrayed him, but always knew he'd do so._

_He had a nightmare about a man in a boy's body, who impulsively wished he didn't remember._

_He saw an innocent child forget._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------_

AN: This is just the prologue, and in the next chapter, it will be in the future, about a Jak who's suspicious of Torn, who kept the truth from him (not that he knows that (for now)). May or may not be yaoi (whatever you want)

Review Please!

theinsane


	2. Of Blood and Bones

Summary: He didn't accept it. The fact that if he took **one** wrong step _he_ could become an ottsel. He did accept it. And Jak stayed alive. Sequel to "Black Truth."

In which Jak is pissed.

I don't own.

Dedicated to Rin-neechan, who gave me inspiration.

* * *

Jak was bedridden. Jak **hated** not being able to move. After all, what if someone tried to kill him?

Again.

'Though,' he dryly thought. 'Being shot practically a kazillion times and getting captured does that to you.' And with that he laughed, but then stopped, remembering why he didn't get up.

It hurts.

**A lot.**

It also didn't help that he was strapped down.

'Torn was right,' he supposed, It **was **suicide. If it weren't for the Green Eco boxes the KG leaves around, he'd probably be dead. You'd think they'd get the hint. Stupid KG.

It still hurt though.

And now, coupled with the pain (and the straps) he was officially… (Wait for it…)

Bored.

Wasn't his life so **fun **and so **utterly_ wonderful_**? A life with no violence** at all**, and **so _captivating_** that he had to count the cracks on a crack on the ceiling.

He's already at the stage where he's threatening non-existent people. Sane eh?

Of course, Jak was waiting. Do you know exactly how boring is amplified when you are waiting for nothing? A lot, I tell you, a lot. Enough to randomly say, "I will kill you, the Baron, with hot, molten chocolate." And then pretend to hallucinate doing so.

Which he did.

But don't worry he did it silently, so the room's other occupant didn't hear.

He saw the grin on his face, though.

Oh well, he could kiss his ass for all he cared.

Damn that Erol!

Damn him for capturing him!

Damn him…

* * *

_Halfheartedly watching the two time-twins bicker (and Daxter gaping), he momentarily closed his eyes and listened._

'_Damn it!'_

_Hearing the alarms blazing at a distance, he interrupted._

"_Look! I don't know about you but I'm going to get out of here before the Krimsons come and we get our necks slit."_

_Reluctantly, they silenced, the noticeably older sage hitting the younger one with his cane, before both walking into the shimmering portal._

_Jak walked toward the portal, obviously planning to get the hell out of there. But wait. Where's Daxter? He turned around hurriedly, as he could hear the approaching footsteps._

_Sure enough, there was Daxter still standing flabbergasted, hand shaking, pointing in the direction of the—_

_The doors were opened._

_Hastily, Jak grabbed Daxter, throwing him into the rippling sapphire, and then lunged for the portal himself. _

_But it was too late, as the portal was switched off._

_Hitting his head on the floor behind it, Jak scrambled on the floor, getting in a crouched, predator-stalking position before watching the red weaklings steadily pour into the room. _

_Jak, now in Dark form, merely glanced at the Krimson who stuttered "I-it went over there!" and promptly ignored the officer who replied, "What are you waiting for private? Go check it out!"_

* * *

This, Jak supposed, is where it went wrong.

Or maybe, he mused, not leaving in the first place.

Damn that bastard!

But it was a good plan…

* * *

_Jak shrugged._

_He was a legend within the KG, firstly because the experiment was kept hush-hush._

_Secondly because nobody lived to tell the tale._

_He merely got out his gun, (Despite popular belief, he could still use his gun now. He just preferred not to) and waited for the (rightfully) paranoid prey to come over to his dark corner._

_He joyfully listened to the insults thrown at the now trembling Krimson._

_He hoped he had a wife and kids._

_He'll never see them again._

_For serving the Baron he would repent his sins. _

_So when the now hyperventilating so-called protector of the peace was thrown into the shadows, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

_

This is so long…(for me)

Review for next chapter!

(Or just plain review)

Critic welcomed!


	3. And Intestines Too

Summary: He didn't accept it. _The fact that if he took **one** wrong step he could become an ottsel._ He did accept it. _And Jak stayed alive._ Sequel to "Black Truth."

In which Jak is pissed, before getting mildly mad.

I don't own.

Once again dedicated to Rin-neechan, who gave me inspiration (cause this continues from original inspiration).

* * *

_**The result was instantaneous.**_

_**Chaos.**_

_**Mayhem. **_

_**Destruction.**_

_None of them really expected a yellow eco blast to come out of the darkness, disposing of the Krimson pariah. However, they attacked, immediately using one of their mottos:_

"_Expect the unexpected. Then kill it, and say it was treason."_

_But Jak was to quick for them. Weaving in and out of the mob, he brashly raised his gun, and rapidly pulled the trigger on each of the Krimsons, sometimes using more ammo than necessary._

_That didn't matter to Jak, who (aided by his Dark Eco enhanced abilities) was hell-bent on causing them pain._

"_**Repent!" **He yelled ferociously, in a gravely, beastlike voice. _

"_**Repent for your sins of serving the devil!"**_

_His Vulcan Fury ran out._

_He laughed insanely, bringing his Scanner out, bringing down several KGs at a time._

"_**This is for the Dark Eco!" **He shrieked with fury, killing several Krimsons clawing at the door. _

_His Scanner ran out._

"_**This is for ruining me!"** He angrily kicked the head of the nearest human, and smirked when he heard a crack._

_**"And this—"**The room rang out with a shot, and all movements ceased. The cowards stopped clawing their now-broken nails at the door, the 'moral' ones paused in rapidly letting out prisoners for shields, the imprisoned quit yelling in their foreign language and discontinued bashing their heads against the bars (in an attempt to find a way to escape)._

_All were focused on the obviously suicidal soldier, who unsteadily dropped his gun on the floor._

_Jak put his hand on his cheek, touching the seared flesh, before clenching his palms and smirking._

"_**Tsk, tsk, tsk," **He reprimanded reproachfully. The almost-assassin was now groveling at his feet, begging for mercy._

_"**I was running out of reasons to blame you and here you go, giving me another thing to say."** His leer got even larger at this, and, if this was possible, grew at the hopeful look on the beggar's face._

_"**You guys really piss me off. Do you know what happens to people who piss me off?"**_

_The optimistic grin had now worn off, and a horrified one had replaced it instead._

_"**Exactly! All that's left is blood and bones…Too bad I'm out of Blaster ammo too. "**_

_The Krimson crawled backwards, watching appalled as his comrades refused to part for him, but did for the living horror story. Jak dropped his gun and—_

_Jak lied._

_All that was left were blood, _intestines_, and bones.

* * *

_

_Erol walked into the room, blood and organs sticking to his feet as he hurriedly rushed to an almost unconscious man._

_"G-get away fr-rom me, you bastard!" The once-more blond said, trying to get on his feet, only succeeding to get on his hands and knees._

_"Whatever you say," Erol replied, pushing his back down with his feet, before yanking him up and proclaiming him a 'Dark Eco freak', and stuffing him into a body bag._

_"My plan worked," Erol said kicking the body bag to make sure his prisoner wasn't conscious._

_"Now to interrogate the freak, without any interruptions." He roughly threw the bag into the elevator, before hoping in himself._

_When the elevator stopped—at the second-to-top floor—Erol grasped the top of the morgue bag, dragging it into a dank room with cracks on the ceiling, and strapping it down before walking out._

"_Not even _Praxis_ can keep me from having my fun,"

* * *

_

Jak, of course was awake the whole time, but he didn't struggle ( steel tipped boots hurt, damn it!). Besides, if Erol kept his word, all of the torture objects he obviously had would be used on **him**.

Weird. Judging by his tone of voice when he said that _bastard's _name, he hated him too.

You learn something new everyday.

"I know you're awake, and it hurts me to think you would fake sleep to avoid me."

As if that would scare him.

Really.

"Scared, freak?" God damn him! Oh, well. He has the perfect comeback.

"It hurts me for you to think **I** would hide from **you**. However, it seems that _you_ are the scared one here." Jak heard an aggravated groan (he still couldn't see, damn it).

He smirked.

'Let the games begin.'

* * *

Woho! This is long (for me) 

Okay explaining. Jak only had one Blaster ammo left before he killed the first guy.

Review please!


	4. Choices and Torture

Summary: He didn't accept it. _The fact that if he took **one** wrong step he could become an ottsel._ He did accept it. _And Jak stayed alive._ Sequel to "Black Truth."

In which Jak is pissed, before getting mildly mad, and then decides to not cooperate.

In which Torn is demanding.

In which Vin is scared.

In which Erol is...what is he?

I don't own.

Once again dedicated to Rin-neechan, who gave me inspiration for this chapter, too.

* * *

"Look up prisoner 4957." That was Jak's identification number, right? He found it on those-those **rags** in his pack, so that must be it... 

Vin jumped, mildly hyperventilating before his startled eyes looked to his immediate area.

"Don't do that!" He shrieked before adding a 'sorry, no can do'.

"What do you mean you can't!?" Did the prison warden change his numbers?! Was his best man dead!? Whatever it was, it was his fault...

The paranoid man startled. "Th-the Baron's prison sy-system is the second most c-compli-icated system I've ever seen! I ca-can't hack into it without the sp-spy ware off and..."

'I should've gone with him...' Torn thought 'Not that I would've done anything...'

_You could've at least gotten captured instead, you liar!_

'But the Underground...'

_Can live without you! Jak does every thing useful. All you do is point where to go!_

So it was his fault. His mistake.

So he'll fix it.

Vin gulped and stuttered his words as he watched Torn draw his gun and load it. Once his gun was at the ready he aimed it directly at Vin's temple with his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment.

"Vin, buddy. We're friends, right? As a friend, you should tell me how to turn it off. Something bad might happen if you don't…"

The considerably older man 'eeped', backing into his controls, before answering.

"A-a swit-switch! I-in th-the Wast-astelands! B-but yo-you are-are'nt go-going the-there, r-right?"

Torn simply cocked his gun.

"Wrong."

This was his only chance for redemption.

"Now, tell me where it is."

* * *

"Now, now Eco Freak: We can do this the easy way or the hard way." 

Wow. Look how many choices he gave him. He'll go with other.

So, using the power of his now bloodied lip and spit (accompanied by his now uncovered face), Jak spit on Erol. The reaction…wasn't pleasant.

"Arrgh! Precursors fucking damn it!" Heh he. Bull's-eye. Or rather, Erol's-eye.

"You better be behaving by the time I get back Eco Freak! Else I report you to the Baron."

Jak merely chuckled—then grimaced. The first few punches were painful, (and he had _Dark _Eco treatments. He wouldn't recommend them to the biggest masochist in the world) but after awhile, it numbed. But, unfortunately for him, it didn't last.

Erol punched fucking hard!

But Jak bet he could punch harder.

_"You better be behaving by the time I get back Eco Freak! Else I report you to the Baron."_

Yeah right. Like Jak, future destroyer of the bastard, who behave to someone who served said bastard.

Wait a second…_"Else I report you to the Baron." _

Didn't the Baron already know?

--------With Erol

Damn that freak! Damn him, damn him, damn hi—arg!

'My eye! It burns!'

Clutching his spit-upon eye, Erol stumbled to the bathroom and looked up.

There was nothing wrong with him, except, oh, I don't know, a sever burn where the idiotic—idiotic **thing** spit on him!

Gathering water from the tap, the red-haired commander furiously scrubbed at the (_imperfection, get it off of me!_)mark, (_ignoring the pain, ignoring the **searing**_ _pain_) hoping it wouldn't leave a scar. After he was sure it (_what was that? What was that!? **What was that!?**_) was gone, he looked up and sighed. All that was there was red, irritated skin centered around his eye. Which lead to an important question: What did that eco freak do!?

"That freak will pay!" Yes, pay indeed. That Dark Eco Freak—

Wait! Dark Eco…His blood must be saturated in it! It was diluted with the saliva too…

Erol looked up at his throbbing pink eye. He could imagine what **pure** Dark Eco injections must feel like.

_But he didn't want to._

Half-heartedly punching the marble, Erol walked out the room.

After all, a dead, starved, most likely infected prisoner wasn't a useful prisoner.

* * *

Another chapter, hopefully another review (my goal is more than this fic's prequel) 

Please Review!

Critic accepted.


	5. Devil's Eyes

Summary: He didn't accept it. _The fact that if he took **one** wrong step he could become an ottsel._ He did accept it. _And Jak stayed alive._ Sequel to "Black Truth."

In which Jak is pissed, before getting mildly mad, and then decides to not cooperate and after that—what?

In which Torn is demanding, and then is severely pissed.

In which Vin is scared and then is terrified.

In which Erol is—well, I think he's mad…

* * *

"What do you mean he's not in there!?"

Was he killed? Did they take him to the interrogation sections? Did they change his prison number?

Is sand supposed to itch that badly?

The computer wiz breathed in and out.

In and out.

In and out, in and out, in and out!

Really, Torn didn't help his psychological position with his entrance earlier either…

* * *

_It was in the middle of the night, and Vin was getting his few hours of sleep. True, it **was** a nightmare, but as long as he got **some** sleep, he wasn't complaining. Okay, he was complaining, rather avidly all the time in his head (so nobody can hear him. They can't hear his thoughts, right? Right!?), but he wasn't conscious now, so he couldn't. _

_The door to the power station creaked open, then, letting the dark figure in, slammed shut. Vin was startled awake immediately, but kept his eyes closed. Slopping noises were made every time the monster's feet hit the floor. It then bent down, chuckling snidely._

"_**Wakey, wakey Vin!"

* * *

**_

In actuality, Torn was just covered was just covered in Metal Head blood and innards, not slime, as he had ran out of both fuel _and_ ammo, and had to use his knives to kill everything in sight, 'cause he was just that pissed. Plus, when he found Vin sleeping on the job—let's just say Vin is lucky that the Underground profits from him. Of course, he just couldn't resist waking Vin up in a voice that sounded rough, grotesque, and monstrous. Not that he had a choice really, as the sand highly irritated his throat, but still its the thought that counts. Seeing him covered in blood, however, was enough to get him to faint, as that could have been his spleen that was shredded, and since every time he woke up he fainted, Torn decided it was time to get cleaned up, no matter how much Vin's girly-shriek amused him. Eventually the eco expert calmed down, and had set to work on hacking through the prison's computers, with Torn's gun ,which was now needlessly pointed at him, fresh in his mind. Of course, when Vin didn't find anything…let's just say the answer wasn't very pretty.

"What do you mean he's not in there!?"

Which leads us to the present.

Seriously, was sand_ supposed _to itch there!?

"H-his n-num-number isn't in there. I-I ch-checked! Tw-twice!" Vin was now in his hover elevator, trying, albeit uselessly, to get away from the guy with the now loaded gun. Now, clawing at the ceiling , as a pissed Torn wasn't a Torn that would spare you the spilt blood, Vin was on the verge of dying from hyperventilation.

"Check again or I'll fuck you up so bad, there'll be nothing left for the Metal Heads!"

Ah, the sweet sound of 'alternative' persuasion.

Of course, this shouldn't matter to Vin, as he was already well out of the ex-KG's reach, but Torn's hand was on the switch that turned off all of the power in that station.

Guess what his hover elevator ran on…

Yes, Vin's elevator ran on the ever-elusive power, and, as absurd as it sounded, would turn off when Torn pulled the lever that had the conspicuous label, "Power For Power Station". Really, nobody would guess that it was the switch, as most would think it was a trap. I mean, who would put a lever that turned the power off in a power station that was supposed to keep all of the power running?

……

…Moving on…

Vin hurriedly pressed the switch that made the elevator go down, and immediately jumped off, typing for his life (literally) as Torn casually sharpened his knife…with a bone that had yet to be identified.

Suddenly, Vin stopped typing; looking at the screen like it was the bane of his existence. Desperately, he brought up a few more windows, urgently deleting all that was obsolete.

"Find anything?"

All movements ceased. The sound of rapid typing stopped, and so did the victim's heart. Slowly, deliberately, the eco expert turned around…

* * *

They said death stared you in the face, and you wouldn't know until it's too late.

They said that death knocked on your door, and in human nature to do whatever you can to avoid it.

They said when you died, you would be judged for the sins you have committed, and the virtues you held.

They said when you died, you will go through a trial, and your success or failure would ensure you Paradise, or eternal limbo.

Today, Erol saw death.

* * *

_It was a normal day of interrogation. Erol comes in, demands for information, uses violence to try to persuade him, walks out._

"_You're useless. I don't really see why the Baron wants you, or why the Underground needs you. All you do is kill the people they are trying to protect. Surely they must tire of being seen as such a paradox."_

_Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a typical day of torture. It seems that today Erol wanted to mix it up, and was using mental torment instead._

"_I don't give a cra—ow!"_

_Nonetheless, he still wasn't easing with the punches. Which still hurt like hell, not that Jak was going to admit it._

_Slamming Jak's head against the concrete wall (again), Erol groaned irritably under his breath. This was getting nowhere! _

"_Tell me where the Underground's headquarters are, or else!" He said, grabbing his and pushing it to the floor, making him eat dirt, literally._

"_Or else what?" He questioned, spitting the filth out of his life._

_He paused. He hadn't actually thought of a threat to intimidate him with. That didn't matter though, as he, a) knew who and where the people close to him were, and b) knew that Jak wouldn't wish the Dark Eco treatments on anyone (except the Baron). That will be Plan B. Now for Plan A…_

"_Empty threats, Erol? That's a new low for **you**."_

"_I'd shut up if I were you, Eco freak. I might **accidentally** convince the Baron to resume the Dark Warrior Program." _

_Silence. His head bowed down, hair covering his eyes, and thus, hiding his thoughts. _

"_So?" Jak said grinning. _

_Erol was shocked. Wasn't that why the Eco freak wanted revenge? But then again…_

"_Oh well. I suppose it doesn't matter that we will start with your mechanic, now does it? Or maybe that rat you carry around all the time. Perhaps the old man we captured?"_

"_Your point is…" He knew they could take care of themselves, anyways. All of them were with the Underground, and Ashelin would inform them before the Krimson Guards' attempts to capture them. _

_But Daxter and Torn…_

_He hoped his buddy had enough sense to stay away from the strategist._

"Of course, I shouldn't expect you to care. You are a monster, after all," He snidely chuckled. Really, what should he have been expecting? A sincere apology? Begging?

"_A demon. An it. How someone could like you is anybody's guess." He continued. Of course, Erol was just speaking his mind. _

_Freedom of speech was outlawed, by the Baron, of course. Sometimes Erol forgot that, but that didn't matter, 'cause he was talking to a monster of course. And monsters don't deserve to—_

_Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted, as the subject of his tormenting laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed._

"_**Oh, really Erol. If I'm a monster what are you? You made me this way! You're the one pulling the levers the whole time!" **Cackling insanely, he sat up and glared at Erol, all pain gone._

Black void stared out where the eyes were supposed to be; skin stretching to far to be human, and fangs were poking out in a murderous smile.

"_**What are you Erol? Do you know what's worse than a demon?"** He said, insidiously grinning, splitting his face in half. His hair was now a ghostly white, his skin a sickly pale. _

_He then paused for dramatic effect. After all 'The suspense was killing me' was meant to be literal in this situation._

"_**I do, Erol. Do you want to guess?"** He whispered snidely. Really, he was having too much fun!_

"_I am not anything you—" Jak then hit Erol; four claw marks trailing blood down his face._

"_**Now, now Erol. No name calling."** He said, taking one from Erol and slamming the commander's head against the already bloodied wall._

"_**I think I've held you in suspense long enough, commander,"** He said, scornfully murmuring to the Krimson Guard._

"_**But I suppose it doesn't matter. You are nothing. Dirt that doesn't deserve to touch the feet of a monster like me."** He idly said, waving his hand casually, hitting him when he tried to speak._

_"**You are useless. You are a waste of time, and you do not deserve to live, nor experience the pleasure of death. Of course, I am open to torture."**_

_Jak then stood up, pinning Erol's hands to his sides and roughly pushing his head into the dirt._

_"**I have no idea how you got to be commander. You are scum—no, worse than that, you do not deserve to look upon your superiors,"**_

_"**So, commander,"** He said mockingly._

_"**Cut your wrists and black your eyes. Never look upon anything again,"** He crowed, before releasing Erol from his clutches._

_"**Run, scum, run!"** He shrieked, watching the Krimson scramble out of the room._

_"**Live forever, always die."**_

_And then Jak collapsed.

* * *

_

Today, Erol saw death.

And death came in the form of emotionless black voids.

Of course, hallucinations could count too.

* * *

Woah! I just made Jak insane.Welcome to the cult, Jak!

Jak: God damn you!

theinsane


	6. Guns and Bones

Summary: He didn't accept it. The fact that if he took **one** wrong step _he_ could become an ottsel. He did accept it. And Jak stayed alive. Sequel to "Black Truth."

In which Jak is pissed, before getting mildly mad, and then decides to not cooperate and after that—what?

In which Torn is demanding, and then is severely pissed.

In which Vin is scared and then is terrified. Did he wet his pants? I'd say yes, yes he did.

In which Erol is—god damn it! You can never know what he's feeling, can you!?

In which Daxter helps.

I no own.

* * *

_Last time:_

"_Find anything?"_

_All movements ceased. The sound of rapid typing stopped, and so did the victim's heart. Slowly, deliberately, the eco expert turned around…

* * *

_

And promptly found himself with a face full of gun. Vin screamed, jumping backwards and somehow managing to not push any buttons. He trembled, the combination of the two would-be killers making him have a nervous breakdown.

Who wouldn't be scared?

Orange Lightning was here.

* * *

It was his fault.

When Jak threw him into the portal, Daxter was pissed. He landed on his ass and he swore heard something crack. He was going to yell at him for that. He was going to hiss and complain, and he was going to go so far as to say that they weren't buddies anymore once Jak came.

But he didn't come. The portal turned off mere seconds after he came through. So, Daxter waited for Jak to come through the door of the Naughty Ottsel (Tess insisted).

The door didn't open.

Daxter apologized. He was sorry for thinking about yelling at him. He's sorry for complaining.

He's so, _so _sorry for almost calling him not his friend. 'It's not true!' He mentally yells, because Tess will worry if he screams out loud.

But then, then he hears that Torn snapped. He hears that Torn is threatening his best hacker, and if he fails in his hacking he is to be punished with death.

That, however, gives Daxter an idea. If he terrorized Vin into reopening the portal, maybe, just _maybe_ he can get Jak back, before they start torturing him.

But then he hears Vin say he can't find anything, so he gets out from his hiding place and nods to Torn, and vice-versa. Getting out his gun, courtesy of Tess, he got behind Vin in the hover elevator, and pointed it at him. Signaling to Torn, he loaded his gun.

"Find anything?" Daxter's temporary not enemy called from the back of the room, sharpening the bone into a mini-spear (just in case :-D).

"Hello Vin old buddy, old pal." He said ominously.

"I'm looking for someone. Do you know where that someone is?" The ottsel said, idly pushing his gun to the hacker's temple.

" 'Cause you know something…_bad _will happen if you don't." He put his claw on the trigger and slightly pulling it. He lazily wondered if Vin knew that it was on safety.

"You…do know where he is, _don't _you?" This was more stated than asked, Daxter getting ready to shoot the eco professionals' brain out.

"Yes!" He shrieked, futilely trying to cover his head. Torn snapped his head to the expert, jaw slightly dropped. Swiftly crossing the room, he got both of his eco-free weapons out.

"And, pray tell, why didn't you tell _me _this!" He snarled. This old codger told something to the rat, but not to _him_! Something was going to die! Or rather…someone.

But Vin was in his own world. "N-no wait! No! I-I mean yes!" He said, trembling. He was going to die! Dead! No existence! Void! Nothing!

"Choose," Daxter seethed. "Yes, or no. It's only one syllable."

"Maybe." He murmured, trying to tune out his assassins. If he didn't notice them, they wouldn't kill him, he decided, even if he knew it was the opposite.

"That's two syllables." Daxter muttered, pulling back his gun.

"Explain the errors of your ways." Torn added, still miffed, and thus, still threatening.

_Hypocrite._

Trembling, he got up, maximizing a screen, watching the videotape on the screen before pressing a button with a shaky finger to fast-forward it. He paused it pointing to a character on the screen.

"H-he go-goes in w-with an e-empty mor-morgue ba-bag." He knew Torn knew that the desolate jails didn't have cameras. Daxter, however, was impatient, and had yet to see what was so important with the clip of the commander.

"Wh-when h-he comes out its n-not." It was obvious that the commander with a gun scared him, but a commander with a _body bag_! He was terrified.

Torn stopped glaring, shocked. Was Jak dead?

_It's your fault! It's your fault, you murderer! You killed him…you bastard! _

But Daxter asked for him:

"Is he…he…you know, dead?" Daxter was silent by this point, preferring to look at the ground, than let his eyes rest anywhere else.

He then looked up, enraged. 'I'll kill them! Praxis, no, _everyone _will die!' Luckily for everyone, however, Vin wasn't finished.

"No, _no, _n-no. H-he isn't dead." Pointing to the screen, which now displayed an elevator, Daxter paused in his mental rants.

Daxter hopped onto the eco expert's shoulder, unconsciously jamming his gun into the man's temple. Sure enough, the bag at the bottom of the elevator was moving, even if it wasn't much.

"Looks like we're going on a raid."

Daxter slightly jumped, looking to the commander that had suddenly appeared by his side. He nodded, picking up his gun.

"Let's give them hell."

* * *

Erol didn't come to the Krimson Guard meeting.

Or the next...

Or the next.

Strangely, however, her father didn't care. 'Erol knows what's best.' He said. 'He must have a reason. Let's not pry into his personal life.'

Hmph. Says the one who asked where she goes when she comes home an hour _early_. Tell us, what was so good about _Erol?_

1) He always put racing before his duties as commander, usually shoving the work to her.

2) He somehow blamed her for everything just by _standing_ in the room.

3) His sources are unreliable, greedy, and shady, and strangely know every girly or stupid thing Ashelin has done in her life.

4) He hates her.

What utterly _wonderful_ qualities! It's like he's a walking _saint_, or _perhaps_ a deity.

Not.

At least Ashelin can say that the feeling isn't mutual. Why? It is very simple:

She _loathes _Erol with the searing intensity of a thousand suns from the seventh layer of hell. There is _so _a difference.

But we're not talking about her, are we? We are talking about Erol and his several…_redeeming_ qualities.

5) He completely disregards Haven's laws and rules, despite being the leader of the law enforcers.

6) He gets away with it.

Never mind the fact that by helping the Underground she's committing treason. She's doing it for the city; _he's _doing it for kicks.

7) And as she recently found out, he is keeping Jak in his personal interrogation room.

'Daddy dearest' always said to never let in strays.

He never said anything about giving them keys, weapons, and ammo, didn't he?

He did?

It's called post-teenage rebellion, _Daddy.

* * *

_

He heard them coming three floors up.

Erol didn't care.

Was he really dirt? After all, he _did _make that fre—er, _Jak,_ a monster, and he _did_ think that monsters were unworthy of life.

Where did this leave him? What was he?

_"You are useless. You are a waste of time."_

But he wasn't! He was the commander of the prestigious Krimson Guard!

_"I have no idea how you got to be commander. You are scum."_

He was the racing champion of Haven city.

_"No, worse than that, you do not deserve to look upon your superiors."_

He…he was…he wasn't nothing!

'Two floors left, Erol.' He thought, listening to the commotion on the floors below.

'What _are_ you going to do?'

* * *

I'm almost done with this fic! You all must be relieved that your torture shall soon end.

Please Review!

theinsane


	7. Decoration

Summary: He didn't accept it. The fact that if he took **one** wrong step _he_ could become an ottsel. He did accept it. And Jak stayed alive. Sequel to "Black Truth."

Jak doesn't like to be rescued.

In which Torn is demanding, and then is severely pissed. Now he's nice. _Real _nice.

In which Erol is--you know what!? I'm not even going to try.

In which Daxter helps. A lot.

I no own.

Also, sorry Novastorm, satan'stoasterstrudel, I can't think of any more chapters, but originally, there was going to be two. If you want to wait another week or so, I could probably, but I _so _can't type any more of this. My fingers are falling off… D: Oh well, more time for the sequel.

AN: In advance, I don't know where it came from, but you better damn well appreciate it! I had to type it _two _times! Thus, I'm pissed.

Okay people, this is the edited version (thanks to Rin-neechan). If you want the other, more gory version, just PM me.

* * *

The Krimson Guard Headquarters has a total of nine floors. It, for safety reasons of course, is the base of the palace where the ever so grand Baron resides. It is made of the strongest steel in Haven city, thus it is made of the strongest material known, excluding the allusive Precursor metal.

The first four floors are the quarters of the soldiers, as they are, though the most expendable, they are also the most useful rank there is, the others preferring to command them. They must be easily accessed in case of emergencies, but are _not _under any circumstances, open to the public, where the Underground can reach them without effort.

The next two floors are the homes of the captains. Those of higher ranks, and the captains themselves can only access them. This rule remains the same throughout all of the floors.

The seventh floor is where the lieutenants reside, one to each section of the KG, which has _four _sections. The second commanders make the eighth floor their home, one to each half of the floor. Last, but not least, the ninth floor. The commander of the dreaded Krimson Guard lives here, the whole floor his own. He is placed on this very floor for strategic purposes, so the Baron can have easy access to his advice.

The 'team color' of sorts is, of course, crimson.

And alas, the seventh floor was covered in several layers of this kind of paint, the red decorations oozing off of the ceilings, walls, and floors. A new lock had also been added to the door leading to the staircase; all unauthorized personnel would be kept out while the scarlet paint dried.

The redecoration on the walls went from the smooth finished touch to dozens upon dozens of unfinished notches in the walls cut deeply without any pattern or design. Some were lined with wet, red paint that trailed down to the floor, and covered the Baron's various logos painted on the walls.

The Baron's old decorative columns were ripped out for lack of meeting the fire safety standards, and the old security cameras being removed for inefficiency, inexistent figures flitting across the security monitors at erratic intervals. The picture frames were disposed of, many Krimson Guards holding the garbage determinedly, though some of the picture frames were shattered, paint splattered all over the glass.

Yes, it seems that the seventh floor is the most spirited, but what about the eighth?

Indeed our decorators are on this very floor, using two of the four symbols of the Krimson Guard: Weapons and bullets. Of course, the kind second commander and his guests were willing to donate the last two, crimson paint and fear easily accessed by them.

One of the decorators is a short orange fellow, politely complimenting their donors with kind words such as, 'Eat bullets, bitch!' and 'Die you piece of shit!'

He was really too nice for his own good.

The other had short braided hair, and was significantly quieter than the other. He was obviously dedicated to his job, not even stopping to praise his contributors. The demented smile on his face, however, suggested he was a quite pleasant man. In fact, he kept this grin while he cleanly dissected a man's stomach with his knife, not even looking at the organs pouring out before he stabbed the man's eye. His orange assistant quickly pulled the trigger of his gun, bullet searing through skin, arteries, veins, and finally, the spine. He was quick to follow the braided man, scampering faster because of his shorter footsteps. The head decorator nodded to his helper, and they went up the stairs to the ninth floor, obviously planning to make the commander's floor a masterpiece, as they did with the two lower floors.

What a nice bunch of people.

* * *

Erol has a unique way of getting to the stage of acceptance. For one, it only has two stages; denial, (even though it _is _rare and brief) and anger. Usually, it doesn't even end in acceptance. 

In fact, it usually ends in death.

Sometimes the cause disappears, all traces of it existing gone. _No_ connections are even _thought _of being left alive.

Usually, the cause becomes the victim of 'suicidal tendencies', and the case against Erol is dropped.

Why?

Because suicide isn't exactly rare in a city as _glorious _as Haven.

After our commander—well, became commander—such techniques were postponed, the murderer preferring a more blatant death. No charges were filed, because you _really _didn't want to piss off the (though people argue about this) second-most powerful man in Haven.

So, summing it up, surviving Erol's wrath would have the chances of one in a million. It would probably never happen.

But it so happens that Jak is a one in a million kind of guy.

* * *

It was black, the never-ending void stretching on and on, enveloping him in a frozen state of unconsciousness. 

Groaning, Jak sat up, shaking the alluring sleep away. What happened yesterday anyway?

Oh yeah. He went dark, dissed Erol, hit Erol, made Erol run…all in all he was pretty satisfied. Shakily standing up, Jak assessed his situation.

He had no dark eco left, though Jak could have some stored away somewhere. It was just that unpredictable.

He had many bruises, and most were probably turning some weird color by now; he couldn't bother to check.

His stomach then growled, angry that its master had forgotten about it. This reminded him of the lack of food, and the lack of life one had when you didn't have any.

The result…well, all of it was Erol's fault.

'I swear, when I get my hands on that bastard…' He thought, clenching his fists.

'But I won't kill him, will I?' He smirked, walking to the door.

'It'd be a _much _bigger blow if I outraced him.'

He took a few steps back, preparing to slam his shoulder into the door—

And then it opened.

"Jak!" Daxter exclaimed, dropping his weapon in the rush to get to his partner.

"Hey Dax," Jak said, mildly smiling when Daxter scrambled up his clothes in a hasty attempt to get to his buddy's shoulder.

"Torn?" Really, why was the strategist here? Surely not to save him…

Torn merely grunted, flicking the blood off of his knife.

"Hurry up. The reinforcements will be here any minute…"

Daxter, however, started to chat animatedly instead of listening to the commander.

"…And I was like 'Eat bullets bitch!' and then a thousand Krimson Guards swarmed into the room. I was like 'Hya!' and 'Die you pieces of shit!' and on my own, I took them _all _out—"

"I _said _we need to get out of here." Torn interrupted, mentally smirking when the ottsel went quiet.

"And how are we supposed to do that, huh?" Daxter said, leaning on the blonde's head. "Magically kill the whole army? Che, even _I_ can't do that. We need to get our boy Jak a big weapon if we want to survive that."

Jak looked at the wall, the torture instruments gleaming dangerously in the poorly lit room. Picking up an axe, Jak stalked to the doorway, choosing up a few chains.

"No worries," Jak said, experimentally swinging the weapon around.

"I was looking for more variety in my kills anyways."

* * *

'The eco explosion,' he supposed, 'Was so bright that everyone had to shut their eyes.' 

That must be why they thought he was dead. That mustbe why they didn't come for him.

That's _must _be why nobody saw him leap off into that first shortcut.

But metal heads overran the city, and the Baron was dead. What power could he possibly gain by staying here?

So he was going to a place where power would come easy to him.

So, Erol was going to Kras City.

* * *

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. Just so you all know, this is the last one. No more Trigger Happy. The end. 

**hears cheers**

Ookay… Watch out for the sequel, 'Adrenaline'. It's all about Erol, and it will come out...eventually.

Review please!

theinsane


End file.
